


Colours of Broken

by The_angel_that_fell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Colours, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Forgiveness, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Missing angel, Sam Ships It, heaven is full of asshats, just two idiots, mentions of past rape, please be aware of triggers, prostitute!Cas, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_angel_that_fell/pseuds/The_angel_that_fell
Summary: When Dean kicked Cas out, he never expected this.





	1. blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blue eyes, blue coat, blue feeling, missing someone

It was just another day in the life. Sam and Dean took on a case in Iowa that turned out to be a nasty poltergeist killing all the families that lived in its ancient house. They'd driven all the way back and essentially passed out in their rooms the moment their heads hit their pillows, unconscious in a heartbeat. But only Dean dreamed.

"You have to leave," Dean told Cas. The angel looked simultaneously scared and lost, confused by the thought of the whole world outside the bunker and away from the Winchesters. He tried to avoid the heartbroken blue eyes, because if he looked into them he'd have to confront the reality of what he was doing to this newly-human man.

"Where will I go?" he asked, confused.

"I don't know. I don't care. Just go."

Dean sat bolt upright at the noise of Sam hammering on the door, demanding to know what was keeping him in bed because 'there's a case I found in Oklahoma that's not even that much of a drive, so come on, dude.'

"Coming," he called, wiping sleep from his eyes and shoving the dream-memory out of his head so he could focus. Case. Oklahoma.

 

"Do you think there's a reason Cas hasn't called in months?" Dean asked Sam on the way, when his brother was done updating him on possible werewolf attacks. He frowned.

"I just thought he was busy, you know, whole new life. But yeah, it seems weird. Usually he likes to keep in contact with us. Do you think something's up?"

"I've got no idea, man. I get it - he's a big boy now, he can care for himself and whatever other crap he'll probably spout, though I just thought it was weird. I mean, Earth is pretty different from Heaven." He felt Sam's brief glance at him, undoubtedly wondering why his brother was bringing this up now of all times when he'd been so secretive about what exactly he'd said to get the angel out the bunker. Last he heard, Cas was working at some store, but he was pretty sure he left or got fired or something. Come to think of it, that was about the time the angel stopped ringing or checking in.

"Call him," the younger Winchester suggested, tossing his phone over. Dean caught it without taking his eyes off the road and flipped it open. He tapped on Cas' number and it rung a few times before going to voicemail.

"So, uh, we've been a bit worried because you haven't checked in recently," he said quickly. "So call one of us when you get this, OK?" He closed the phone and sighed, handing it back.

"I'm sure he's fine," Sam said, apparently employing an ability to read his mind at the worst times.

"Yeah, it's probably nothing. Thanks for letting me use your phone," he answered swiftly, attempting to distract himself. What was up with him? He was acting like some overprotective mother hen, for Chuck's sake. And then he did his very best not to dwell on why God had decided to insist on Chuck as his name - it didn't exactly sound powerful. The mighty warrior of Heaven, Chuck. Chuck the smiter of evil? Nope, he still wasn't getting that godly vibe.

 

 It turned out to be a werewolf in Oklahoma. Sam shot it and burned the corpse to ashes, and Dean watched the smoke spiralling into the sky and thought of an angel's raven black hair being ruffled by a cool breeze and sapphire eyes, pure blue. His brother's hazel eyes flicked briefly to him, but wisely didn't speak.

 


	2. red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> red rage, red light, fire, hope

The woman was tall and very curious about what exactly they wanted with Clarence, the name Castiel had used.

"He was just a drifter," she shrugged. "Came in here, did some work, but always seemed a bit off, you know? Like he wasn't always here. He left after getting into an argument with James, the other guy who used to work here. I think James started it, saying something about how he wasn't right in the head and that he should be put down, and Clarence just ignored him. When James said something about him being the Devil's bitch, he responded, and next thing I know, they were fighting and I was dragging them off each other and Clarence left before I got the chance to fire him."

"Do you know where he went?" Sam pressed hopefully, and Dean resisted the urge to punch the useless woman as she answered in the negative and attempted to start some sort of a pickup line. His brother skilfully avoided her and steered him out the door, tense with jaw clenched. 

"Still nothing," he said, sliding in the Impala. "It's like doesn't want us to find him."

"Maybe he doesn't," Dean said grimly. "I mean, I kicked him out the bunker and told him not to come back, so maybe he thought that was it. Maybe we're not gonna see him again."

"Good to see you're staying cheerful," Sam responded dryly.

 

It was a week on, and Dean was fed up with wild goose chases and wasting his time trying to find Castiel because that man had spent thousands of years learning how to blend in on Earth, so how were they ever going to find him?

Frustrated, he headed out after a quick, brutal demon hunt, deciding to leave behind all the blood and misery and boredom for a night at some bar. He found a half-suitable one on the corner of a dark street and entered, breathing in deeply as the smell of cheap alcohol and musty wood hit him harder than a hammer. People lounged at the bar, laughing and chatting, or wandered in the dimly-lit room, greeting friends and trying out bad pickup lines on girls they'd never seen before and probably wouldn't remember the name of when they woke up next to them the following morning. This was his kind of place.

"Hey," he said, seating himself beside a blonde who batted her too-long eyelashes at him and smiled coyly.

"Hey," she purred and turned to face him. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, getting away from the life." Dean hoped he wasn't being too forward as he gulped down his beer and waved for another.

"Me too. Can be hard, sometimes, then, looking like that?"

"You've got no idea," he smirked, cringing internally, but he wanted to get out of his head and she was the best-looking person here - most of the women looked like they'd want paying and the men only had eyes for the girls, not one glancing his way.

"Well, I could make you forget all that for a while if you wanted to get out of here," she offered. What the hell, that was what he came for.

"Sounds good," he replied and leant her his arm as they navigated out the crush of bodies to the other side, where the door beckoned, all the while trying to ignore her silly giggles and flirtatious looks to the other men in the bar which spoke volumes about how often she came here and what she did during that time. No, Dean just started walking down the road with her, to where the motel room waited. However, hunter instincts had been drilled into him since... well, as long as he could remember, and he couldn't just deactivate them. And it was because of that, because he always was watching in some way, that he saw a flash of a tan trenchcoat.

"Cas?" he said involuntarily, spinning to follow the glimpse out of the corner of his eye. The random girl (what was her name again?) squeaked in protest and glared at him, but he simply blanked her out and watched the bar door open. "I need to- uh -"

"Don't bother," she said with surprising sharpness, and stalked off. Dean blinked after her for a second before engaging his brain properly and hurrying back down the road again, re-entering the bar to a flurry of confused glances and mutters about shutting the door. He spun on his heel and scanned the room, yet there was no raven-black hair, no trenchcoat in sight. He crossed to the bartender.

"Have you seen a guy, about yay high, black hair, probably wears a trenchcoat? I'm his friend," he said quickly.

"Oh, you mean Clarence? Yeah, actually, comes in here 'bout a fortnight." The man peered suspiciously at him, wiping a filthy glass. "When you say friend, do you mean _friend_ or friend?"

"There are... types now?"

"I see. I guess there's James over there, if you want a fun night out. Or there's Rhodes, if you want a more rugged type-" A muscled man winked and waved.

"Wait, what? Dude, I'm looking for Clarence, not a hooker."

"Oh. Well, let's just chalk that up to a misunderstanding. He's probably due in any night now. Just hang around."

Dean shook his head and thanked the bartender, wondering what kind of messed-up world he'd walked into. Crazy man was trying to sell him hookers. He called Sam and told him he'd found a case and would be a week - he didn't like lying to his brother, but they'd had a lot of false alarms. So he'd monitor the situation and hope, pray and hope, Cas would show and this wasn't another dead end, or he would see red.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments/kudos!


	3. grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grey souls, grey light, grey grim realisation

Dean returned the next night.

He drank a few beers, turned down a few offers, ignored a few attempts at conversation and brooded silently, only glancing round every time the door opened. But it was never Cas and as the night wore on his hopes sank lower and lower, until at half eleven he wondered if he should just call it a night and try again tomorrow. In fact, he was just draining his last drink when the door rang again and he reflexively glanced round, knowing nothing would come of it.

A man stepped in, dark hair ruffled carelessly and blue eyes piercing.

Cas.

He looked like he'd lost weight, with gaunt cheeks and dark hollows digging themselves in under his eyes; a sign of the exhaustion he'd clearly endured since he'd left but goddammit it was him, alive and apparently uninjured. Dean was about to wave to get his attention when a man slipped from the shadows and placed a somewhat possessive hand on the angel's waist, and spoke quietly into his ear. Cas just nodded quietly and turned to go, the man - blond and tall with a hint of arrogance - guiding him. Dean frowned.

"Cas!" he called and pushed through the throngs of people, catching every fleeting expression on his face as blue eyes locked with green.

"Dean?" he questioned uncertainly.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen -"

"Who're you?" the blond man snapped angrily, the grip on Cas tightening.

"He's nobody," Cas said quickly. "Dean, I don't get customers that often anymore-"

" _Customers_?" Dean enquired, but suddenly everything was slotting into place far too easily, and that couldn't be the only solution, it couldn't be.

"Yeah, I'm a paying customer who doesn't mind damaged goods," spat the man. Dean turned on him swiftly, fury flaring.

"He's not fucking damaged goods, he's my friend you asshole, so give us five minutes or I will knock you out right here."

The man eyed him warily, then decided it wasn't worth it and turned to leave, only checking himself at the final second to spit on Cas' trenchcoat before marching away. Dean looked at Cas, only to find him radiating the kind of rage that brought back memories of black wings and storms and fire.

"What?" he asked. His friend's jaw locked and he grabbed Dean, pulling him outside.

 

"The hell was that about?" Dean queried once they were outside, the cool night air blowing in their faces.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

"We've been worried sick about you. I'm sorry I kicked you out." He looked up to the sky to avoid Cas' gaze. "Dude, you know I'm not good at these type of things, but if I had a chance to take everything I said back, I would, no question. Please, man. Sam misses you. I miss you." He finally dared to look at the angel's gaunt face.

"I never hated you," Cas said, somehow reading his mind even without the psychic abilities. Then he half-laughed bitterly and said, "You want to know what just happened."

"Well, yeah. The guy?"

"I was employed for a while."

"At a store, yeah, me and Sam got that far."

"I thought you might. I needed money. This world seems to run on it, and I had none. I met a girl. She said there was an easy way to get cash fast and I needed it to survive."

"You're a... hooker?"

"I accept money in exchange for sexual gratification, yes."

"Godammit, Cas," Dean whispered, finally understanding the hollowness in his eyes as well as below them. His best friend had been forced to become some back-alley hooker because he was so damn selfish, because he wanted him out. "I-"

"Not here. I have a place. I mean, it's not much but it's something." Dean nodded.

 

Cas' place was tiny. Dean hadn't expected much, but it defied expectations anyway: a table and two chairs with a rumpled bed and small, thin cupboard. The walls were slightly mouldy but he'd obviously made an attempt at making it look tidy, even though with the space available, there was virtually no point.

"How long have you been living here?" he asked.

"Four days after I lost my job at the shop." He shrugged, trying to hide his embarrassment. "It's the closest thing I have to home. Besides the lake here, obviously. It's peaceful there."

Home.

"Do you want to?" Dean questioned. "Come home, I mean."

"You'd have me back at the bunker?" he said, and he wanted to hit himself at the look of relief on Cas' face.

"Of course! Man, we've missed you," Dean grinned and let himself be pulled into a hug. He felt how worryingly thin Cas was, and noticed how he initially flinched at the contact, but he was coming back. Their angel was back, even though he seemed grey and exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me constructive criticism and I'll love you forever


	4. black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> black bruises, black hair, black souls, despair

When Sam saw Cas for the first time, he gave a disbelieving half-laugh and immediately dragged him into a hug. Watching them, Dean saw again that first flinch at the contact and was painfully aware of how thin the angel had become over the time he had been left alone with no support and nobody who could save him if something bad (worse) happened. Worse than being left to fend alone in a world he knew nothing about because he'd been so goddamn _stupid._

Cas ate like he'd never had food before and drank everything he was given, missing the concerned look Sam exchanged with Dean over his head. Dean just shook his head slightly and wished selfishly that things were the same as they'd always been, Cas being the one fucking stuff up with good intentions and them fixing it because he was entirely to blame this time, everything Cas had endured was his own fault and he didn't know what to do with the weight of the guilt on his shoulders.

 

Later, Dean went to Cas' room. He had in mind some half-assed apology, as if that would make everything better, but he stopped in the half-open doorway. Cas had his back to him and stood with his shirt off, bent over something he couldn't see. But the skin Dean could see was marked with bruises and scratches and the top of his hips had deep grooves dug into them.

"Jesus," he whispered. Castiel spun around and hastily pulled his shirt on, although not before he saw his front was no better than his back.

"You should knock."

"I know," he answered quickly, "but Cas, talk to me, man. Please. Where did you get that?"

"Not everyone is gentle," he replied.

"No shit. But that's... that's not normal by anyone's standards, no matter what they do. Who the hell-"

"One of my clients, Dean," the angel insisted. The hunter stuck at it.

"You can't tell me that was consensual. You know how to spot trouble." Cas seemed to buckle, and he sat heavily on his bed. Dean couldn't move.

"The first time, he paid. The kind of money I couldn't just turn down. I hadn't eaten for a day and a half."

"The second time?"

"I tried to get away from him, but he was strong, and... I'd never felt so weak. I couldn't stop him." What could he say to that? Cas had... had been... _raped,_ essentially, and all because Dean hadn't been quick enough in finding him and all the damage, all the hurt, was totally his fault.

"I..."

"Save it, Dean." 

 

Sam was horrified and shocked when it was all explained. Finally he understood the flinches, the restrained fear, the hollows and tiredness. Dean told him over and over again it was not his fault, nothing to do with him, until the words turned empty and robotic, even though it was true and Sam had not been the one to cause the initial damage.

Damaged goods, the arrogant asshole had called Cas. At the time, he'd thought it was simply because he looked so rundown and world-weary, yet now he wondered if the man who had attacked Cas had let the word get out, which would explain the dominant position. Like he owned him, or at least knew he could do anything because Cas was a back-alley hooker who'd been attacked already and was desperate for cash.

The hunter and the angel. Dean thought of his black hair and black wings and wondered what it did to someone - if it dirtied the soul, made them feel unclean. If they sunk into a pit blacker than the one before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no seriously I live for feedback


	5. amber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amber flames, amber whisky, fear

Dean hunted.

He took down a vampire nest with minimal help and insisted on ending a Woman in White case alone. But when he returned from tracking down four crossroad demons with the marks of a werewolf's claws across his cheek and a deep cut under his ribs, Sam decided enough was enough.

"Doing this won't help Cas!" he said, trying not to let his frustration bleed into the concentration he was putting into stitching up Dean's wound. His brother didn't move or speak, but the stubborn set of his jaw and steely eyes remained the same. 

"Dean, seriously. Just... listen. Instead of going on all these suicide missions, why don't you try talking to him?"

Dean laughed bitterly. "Oh yeah, go and have a nice little heart-to-heart to the guy that least wants to talk to me after I _forced him into prostitution."_

"No, of course he's gonna be pissed-"

"Is this meant to be helping?"

"Shut up. Eventually, you're going to have to admit he exists. You can't keep burying this crap."

"I'm not burying it."

"Sure. Because that's totally not why you're going on a spree of monster killing and why you're taking all the unnecessary risks." So Sam had him there, not that he'd admit it. Maybe he was hoping that if he saved enough people, it would make up for the damage caused to one. Maybe he was compensating for the lack of ability to fix the situation by repeatedly risking his own life and praying it would finally pay off in some kind of heavenly reward (although when had the God Squad ever done anything to genuinely help them?).

Later he went to Cas' room again and stood for a few moments outside his door. He'd meant to pass by and go to bed, but a flicker of light caught his attention. The angel was flinching as he examined his bruised body in the mirror, an expression of pain on his face. Then he bowed his head briefly and mouthed two words in the mirror, and even backwards Dean could lip-read pretty well.

_Damaged goods._

He turned away and walked to his bedroom, hands shaking.

 

The next afternoon, he stood in a small clearing with a bloody knife in his hand and a decapitated body at his feet. He looked down at the knife and then to the body.

Was this how Cas felt all the time? Infected by something he couldn't control? He dropped the goddamn knife and watched the blood ooze until he felt something crack inside him and touched his cheek, shocked to find a tear. He stood shakily.

And then he picked the blade up and stabbed the tree again and again until he couldn't stand the gaping hole and then he raged and cried and let everything pent up break lose and tear himself apart and he felt himself slowly hollowing as the last dregs of anger slipped out. The fury dissipated, and left behind nothing except a crushing darkness.

Cas had done so much for them, given everything, and he'd repaid him by forcing him onto the streets when it suited him - after years of treating him like a heavenly bulldog. And Cas was not infallible, obviously, they'd seen that much in the past, but this was a new level.

 

He returned. Walked to Cas' room. And this time, made his presence known. He faced him silently. Icy blue eyes remained stony.

"How do you feel?" Dean asked, and winced internally at how stupid he sounded.

"Contaminated," the angel said quietly. "Betrayed."

Dean looked down.

"I can never say I'm sorry enough, can I?" he asked softly.

"No."

"Ca-"

"Leave me alone."

"Plea-"

"Leave."

He left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> opinions??????


	6. purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> royal purple, red anger with blue sadness, purple shattering amethyst

"The hell are you doing here?" Dean barked. The man, tall and imposing in a purple suit, already radiated an otherworldly power, but it was the angel blade clasped loosely in his hand that gave him away. Well, that and the superior attitude.

"Always a joy to interact with the Winchesters. My name is Eremiel. I was sent to check on Castiel."

"Why?" Sam asked guardedly, but just then the angel himself appeared, looking weak but determined. "Oh. We didn't-"

"Why are you here now, Eremiel?" Cas interrupted. The angel smiled politely.

"Like I said, checking-"

"I didn't ask _why._ I asked _why now._ You had the chance to 'check up' on me when I was in trouble but you didn't bother. So why are you here now?"

"I think you know why." The angel sat in one of their chairs, arm draped along the back and dark eyes almost inscrutable. "Your... change. Heaven could blank it when you were just denying it, but now? Dangerous game to play."

"Does anybody mind including us?" Dean snapped. Eremiel shrugged in a 'not really' gesture and ignored him like his presence was merely a mild irritance - although he would have bet the bunker he was enjoying stringing the humans along.

"Come on, pretty boy. You understand. Heaven are not particularly happy with you on a good day, and now... him? Really? I thought your standards were higher."

"My standards are fine," Cas said stiffly, looking as though he would rather have any conversation but this one.

" _Pretty boy?_ " Dean echoed, still trying to keep up, and their visitor smirked.

"Castiel here is actually one of the most beautiful angels in Heaven, believe it or not, which is how he attracts all those comments. Even though, technically, he's not really an angel any more."

"I think you should leave," Sam said. Eremiel looked steadily around at all of them: Cas, pale face tight and defiant; Sam, hand drifting close to his blade and Dean, a promise of violence beginning to glimmer. It was obvious he'd touched something of a sore spot, and wanted to dig further, see how far he could push before they lashed out.

 _No, Eremiel_ , said a voice in his head and he recognised the steel tones of his superior. He reluctantly gave in, and shot the hunters one last pretentious smile before vanishing.

"What?" Dean said blankly, turning to the angel for an explanation. Cas just shook his head and turned away.

 

"The actual hell?" he asked Sam an hour later. Giving up on flipping through the ancient tome in front of him, he sighed impatiently at his brother's shrug and resigned himself to recounting the entire bizarre conversation again, fishing for some clues in Eremiel's attitude, tone, words, anything.

Nothing.

"That's it, I'm going to ask him," he decided.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam demanded, grabbing Dean's wrist as he was about to walk away. "That was obviously personal and it was just unlucky we were there, so how's it gonna do any good barging in and demanding answers?"

Dean wrenched his wrist free. It was definitely no chance they were there - if he wanted, Eremiel could've just stopped time and spoken to Cas alone, but for some reason wanted them present. Cas had to know why. Besides, what was he going to do, sit around and guess until he went mad?

 

He knocked cautiously at the door and waited until Cas called for him to enter and then he leant awkwardly against the wall.

"No doubt you wish to know what Eremiel meant and why he was here," he said, scrupulously avoiding Dean's eyes.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Although I wished I could divulge that, unfortunately I cannot."

"Why?"

It came out harsher than he'd intended.

"A variety of reasons, but believe me, I am not doing so for myself." The light rebuke made him even more aware of the way Cas refused to look straight at him. Dean spoke more softly, risking a step towards him, his tan trenchcoat draped over his shoulders like a safety blanket.

"Cas, please."

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Cas, just look at me! _Please!_ "

The angel looked at him properly, yet there was nothing familiar in his sapphire eyes. 

"Do you know why I avoid you? Every time I look at you, I feel that man's strength again and I remember the pain. But I have lived for far longer than you can imagine; I can handle the pain. And I can deal with your betrayal. And still I cannot hate you. Everything would be far simpler if I did, but I can't and never could. Not even when I remember I was forced to whore myself out to disgusting people for money."

"Why can't you hate me?" Dean asked quietly, shutting away the rest of his words for later when he could sort through it properly.

"Because I-" Cas cut himself off abruptly. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters a lot."

"I know."

"Then... tell me. Hell, I'm not going to be judgemental. I'd have to be even more of a dick than you think to do that." His attempted joke didn't work, and he mentally kicked himself. Cas bit his lip. "Please, for the love of God, stop lying."

"Lying?"

"You can't go through what I forced you into and not hate me! I hate myself more than you could ever believe just because I kicked you out! I'm the one who should have been attacked because I _fucking deserve it!_ And I deserve every goddamned punishment Hell can give out, so I'm begging you, don't make it worse by pretending you don't despise me!"

Cas stared at him as everything he'd been aching with holding in poured out. Then, very carefully, he took a step towards Dean until their faces were inches apart. The hunter expected to say something that confirmed it, maybe hit him (wouldn't that be a relief). Instead he said, quietly,

"I'd advise you to be quiet. Sam may overhear."

it was such a _Cas_ thing to say, so unexpected and random that Dean half-laughed desperately, whirled away and turned back to him, shaking his head.

"Is that all you've got to say?"

"Actually, no. You certainly believe forgiveness is impossible - so impossible, in fact, that you can't believe anything other than what you expect to hear. How many times? I do not hate you. I never did and never will. I am not lying. In fact, the opposite is true."

"The opposite?" It took him a second. "Wait, are you saying-"

Love?

Cas' eyes darkened with something that he shouldn't have said, a secret blurted out.

"Leave," he said quickly, and Dean didn't even consider stopping him as he was pushed out and the door shut.

What?

Hell yeah, he loved Cas, loved him like Sam. Well, maybe slightly differently, but he had been pretty sure it ran both ways, until just now. Why had the angel been so defensive and panicked when he said it? Because Chuck knew Cas didn't love him like that - he'd have noticed, or at least Sam would have done.

What the actual hell was that conversation? He'd tried to find answers to the mystery of Eremiel's sudden visit and just got himself more confused.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is this? I call it 'wishful thinking'


	7. silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> silver wings, silver jewellery, mystery

It was two days later, and Cas was still avoiding Dean like the plague - which, admittedly, would have been easier if a case came up, but there was nothing, and so life continued in its ordinary, dull routine until Sam's phone rang at noon on the third day.

"Yep... really? How many? OK... yeah... Thanks, James," he said, and hung up. Dean looked at him expectedly. "So apparently there's been a sighting in Wyoming of a... well, we don't know what. Three people have been found dead, organs pulled out and missing with all blood drained and slashed-up faces. Hearts, lungs and livers are the most common missing ones, but one of the corpses had no eyes." Dean winced. "Exactly."

 "Should we start driving, then?"

 "Uh, yeah, sure. But shouldn't we bring Cas?"

 "See if he wants to come," the older Winchester said quickly.

 

 

 Cas did want to come, which surprised him; he thought right now, his ideal place was one as far away from Dean as he could get. Sam discussed possible theories on the drive - pureblood werewolf, nest of vamps, skinwalkers. The limited evidence around the site and way the people were ripped apart suggested very little, except that it was done with some modicum of control.

 It was about nine hours from Lebanon, Kansas to Wyoming. They checked into a seedy motel and, when Cas left to get food, Sam took the available chance.

 "Dude, what's up with you and Cas? You haven't talked since Eremiel's visit - not that we've figured out what that meant, except Heaven's taking an interest again."

 "Nothing happened," Dean grunted and went to brush his teeth. Sam followed.

 "Look, I know you're not having an easy time-"

 "I'm fine."

 "And neither is he. But you can't blank him forever."

 His brother muttered something along the lines of, 'Watch me.' Sam sighed.

 "I have food," Cas announced, entering the room.

 "Great," the younger Winchester said brightly, grabbing a hamburger. "But I need to take a walk, think some things over. Be back in an hour." Dean glared at him, but he just strode blithely out the door, impervious to his stare.

 

Great. Just freakin' great.

 

"Uh... hi," Dean said awkwardly.

 "Hello, Dean," Cas replied quietly, and turned his attention to the food. They ate in not-so-peaceful silence for a while, Dean attempting to formulate some sort of conversation that wouldn't end in disaster.

 "I am sorry I have been avoiding you," the angel said abruptly.

 "No, it's... it's fine. I guess, adjusting time, right?"

 "Yes. I suppose. Although that is part of it." He took a breath in, looked up and fixated his blue eyes on Dean's. "I did blame you, and that is true, but I never could hate you - not even if you did actually end the world."

 "It's crazy how that makes sense to us," he murmured, smiling.

 "Yes. But I'm sorry I was so rude two days ago. I panicked and reacted in a way I shouldn't have."

 "Hey, it's fine. I deserve a few rants, at the very least." He hesitated, wondering if he was pushing his boundaries. "I saw the bruises, from that time. Was there... anything else?"

 "A superficial burn when I was fighting him and a few scrapes, and there's a cut on my back that I think will scar."

 "I'm sorry."

 "I know."

 There was silence again for a few minutes, but it seemed calmer, less tense. Dean gathered his courage to ask,

 "Why did you, you know, freak out when you said you didn't hate me? I mean, there's a lot of people out there who want to kill me for less of a reason than you've got."

 Cas looked down, adjusting his position uncomfortably.

 "I'm sorry if I crossed a line," the hunter said fast, wishing he hadn't been so curious.

 "No. You have a right to know. As you do about Eremiel. He came to see me to warn me that some of my feelings recently have been... less than appropriate. Heaven watches all angels, even after their fall, and makes contact if they disapprove."

 "Why would they disapprove?"

 "If that angel could potentially be trouble or a distraction to someone they are monitoring, that angel is warned. And if they persist, they are... removed."

 " _Removed?"_

 "Moved away, generally, or in extreme cases, executed."

 "Are you saying Heaven are going to take out a hit on you?" Cas smiled quietly.

 "I doubt it. Eremiel was simply sent as a reminder that I should not stray."

 He was about to ask, 'From what?', until the phone rang. He picked it up and listened. It was Sam, telling him he was coming back now and to check on the police database.

 "What is it?" Cas questioned. Dean shrugged and pulled out the laptop, doing what Sam had instructed. Cas stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder for support.

 "Let's see." He tapped his fingers impatiently on the keyboard. Police, Wyoming, recent crime- here. Four more bodies have been found, in the same kind of death as the last three, and the officers had a hard time identifying them. When they finally did, it was two faces that stuck out.

 Dean stared at the screen, and then he picked up the phone.

"Sammy? Have you seen the dead? This isn't our stereotypical case." **** ~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I continue? angst? smut? TELL ME PLZ


	8. teal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teal eyes, teal leaves, forests

This wasn't their stereotypical case.

Two faces stared back at him from the glowing screen: a brother and a sister, blonde hair and brown eyes. Tara and Jack. Two hunters they'd been aware of for a long time, due mostly to their reputation for going after some of the worst and scariest monsters. Dean and Sam took down anything that crossed that path, but they were selective, and not because they were weak. Far from it.

"I've seen it," Sam said grimly. "Whatever we're dealing with, it was strong and probably clever."

"I recognise the other two," Cas said abruptly. "I think they were... not hunters, something else."

"Can you remember?" Dean said. "I don't know them."

"Neither do I," Sam added.

"It was a while ago," the angel murmured. "They were... demon vessels, I think, exorcised and then possessed again. And the demons in them weren't grunts - commanders, I think."

"So how come," Dean wondered, "two hunters and two powerful demons end up in the same place, at the same time, and then are all brutally killed?"

"Search me," Sam chipped in, and he could practically _hear_ his baby brother shrug. "But I'm coming back to the motel now, and I should be able to get something from one of the other hunters."

 

Sam was making calls half the night, none of which achieved anything except an ever-increasing sense of frustration. When he finally gave up, it was very early morning and at least three by the time he fell asleep. Dean was finally drifting off when he heard a faint whisper of distress. He turned around and realised it was Cas.

The angel was shifting and kicking weakly, and now he could hear snatches of words- 'no', 'stop', 'help', and a faint sobbing. Dean instantly gave up on any idea of sleeping and strode to his bedside, shaking his shoulder till he awoke, muscles tense and a hand pulled back for a punch until he saw who it was. The older Winchester simply put a finger to his lips, jerked his head towards his sleeping brother, and pulled Cas up, guiding him outside.

Cas sat in the cold for a few minutes, breathing in and out and gazing at the lights, before he began to speak.

"It was late. He was drinking - his breath was pungent. I said he was strong, but he acted like a customer, and since I'd had him before with no trouble, I thought it would be easy. But when we were outside he grabbed me and tried to kiss me even though everyone knew I didn't do anything until I was out of sight of the usual drunken patrons.

When we got home, it was worse. I tried to push him away, but I was weak - I've never felt so weak, and when I finally fought back properly, he seemed... pleased."

Cas eyes didn't waver from the bright lights.

"Like he wanted to feel completely in control. What I didn't realise was that he had a knife and although I know most forms of self-defense, it was the worst possible situation. I was half-starved and tired, he had the weapon, and he was physically superior. So I didn't fight him anymore. I hoped it would be over quickly. It wasn't. After, he carved a line in my back and said, very quietly, 'Remember you're just another worthless whore."

Dean couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

"Then he left. And I refused to admit what had happened to me. I went to the bar the next night, but when my customer saw the state of me, he spat on me and walked out. By the night after that, it was all round the place. I had to lower my price. Accept I was damaged goods. Keep functioning. But I can't get rid of the nightmares."

 _I'm sorry_ didn't cover it, not even close. _How could I let this happen_ was weak. _I wish I could take it back_ was nowhere goddamn near. Nothing he could say or do would erase it, and he didn't even know where to start with the healing.

"Do most humans get nightmares?" he asked, fixing him with a steady blue stare.

"Sometimes, yeah. I think it's... normal, seeing everything you been through." Cas nodded resolutely and looked back out to the lights. Dean was about to speak again when there was a faint noise in the distance - a feral, deep growl.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, springing to his feet.

"Yes," Cas frowned. "That was not any alley cat I've heard."

"Me neither. Sounded like a werewolf, don't you think?"

"Yes, I'll wake Sam up."

"No, don't," Dean said suddenly. "Might not even be anything, and he'll kill us for interrupting his beauty sleep. Wanna check it out?"

Cas agreed, and so they headed cautiously over the road, into the forest - Cas with his angel blade and Dean with his gun and a knife in his jacket, swiping at bracken in the way. There was another howl, to their left - and then another to their right. The backed up, back to back, swinging torches through the dense trees. Maybe they should've woken up his brother.

"Stay calm," Cas whispered. Dean glanced briefly over his shoulder at him.

"I am calm."

"I was talking to myself."

It was at that point the older Winchester remembered how long it had been since the angel was on a hunt.

"It'll be fine," he said automatically, flinching as another howl rang out, closer than ever.

"No it won't," came a smooth, dark voice, and a pale, dark-haired man stepped towards them and immediately blinked and hissed as the torches' light hit him, exposing rows of sharp curved fangs. " _Hunters_. When we kill you, more will come."

"Motivation not to, then?"

"On the contrary," he purred, "it seems like a fantastic idea." More vamps slipped through the undergrowth, circling them, opening their mouths to reveal mouths packed with long teeth. Great. A nest. Far too many to fight with just them. He couldn't see an easy way out.

But then there never was. Never a simple solution. Not everyone gets a happy ending.

And some people deserved one.

"When I say run, go," he murmured to Cas, so low he doubted anyone could hear. And then he turned to the leader, smiled bitterly and said,

"Come on, then."

The vampires moved.

"Run!" he roared and Cas sprinted, sprinted so fast it took him a moment to realise Dean wasn't with him. He was about to turn back, but Dean, just before he went under, locked eyes with him, and mouthed two words.

_I'm sorry._

Then he disappeared, and Cas turned, and fled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i'll keep going this is not the end I still have chapters to do


	9. pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pink lighting, pink jacket, blood mixed with water

Dean slowly came around, to a pounding headache and blurred vision. His eyesight slowly sharpened, until he could see his surroundings - a dilapidated old barn, mostly dark and constructed entirely of rotting timbers. He felt his bonds, rope around his hands and feet, securely tied.

He heard a scraping and hissing and identified metal cages around the barn, full of - full of vampires, all focused on him, all desperate for his blood. That was when he recognised other figures in the shadows. Two stepped forwards. He saw the leader, the maker, from last night, all pale skin and neat black hair and eyes glinting like razor blades, but didn't know the other muscled one.

"We're gonna eat you nice and slow," growled the muscled one.

"Stand down, Quentin," the maker purred, and obediently (albeit reluctantly) Quentin stepped back.

"Yeah, Quentin," Dean sneered, and smirked when the fang snarled back at him savagely. At the disturbance, four other people emerged from wherever out of sight they'd been - two men and two women, one in a pink jacket and one with blonde hair, all with dark amusement glinting off their otherwise inscrutable features. One of them muttered a few words to the maker; Dean caught 'James', 'restraint' and 'patience'. He guessed James was the maker's name.

"Watch me," the maker, James, said, pacing slowly towards Dean. "See what you can have. Hunters and demons kneeling at your feet! You can have it all."

He wasn't talking to him though. His words were directed at the vamps in the cages, who threw themselves against the bars with renewed desperation as he spoke.

"Your kingdom-" and his fangs neared Dean's throat, "your own blood supply-" the canines pressed against his skin, "and power-" they sunk in, sucking out his lifeblood. For a few moments there was silence apart from the noise of James feeding and Dean's strangled grunt of pain, and then James demonstrated the kind of restraint he'd never seen before and pulled back, pressing a piece of cloth against the wound. His dark eyes met Dean's and he groaned, wrenched his gaze away, dropped the cloth, and spread his arms to the caged ones.

"You see! All you need, the one thing you need to have all this, is restraint. Control." And he was certainly the master of control, to pull back while thirsty, feeding and observed by other potential predators who could steal his prey. He was formidable.

Dean wondered through the fog of pain if Cas would come and get him before James decided to feed again or Quentin lost the ability to hold back. With everything he'd put the angel through, he wouldn't blame the angel if he didn't, because if he died, maybe Cas could heal. And he couldn't do that, not right now, not with the memory darkening his stare every time he looked at Dean. No, he thought before he gave in to the dark haze. He wouldn't blame him if he didn't come to rescue him.

 

"Do you know where they caught him?" Sam questioned Cas as they made their way softly into the forest, armed with blades and guns because although decapitation might kill them, it was useful to slow them down and it was goddamn agony getting shot in the heart or face.

"Here. So their nest can't be far."

It was only another few minutes before they came into sight of an old barn, the ideal place for a nest. The younger Winchester was just turning his head to suggest a plan when suddenly and sharply, Cas blurted,

"Duck!"

Sam hit the ground unquestioningly and heard a dull  _thunk_ as a body thudded to the grass beside him. He was on his feet the next second, and had the head off the second vamp that raced at him. Cas took out the last one with his angel blade and they paused for breath, panting like they'd ran a marathon. The nest was definitely near.

"You go left, I'll go right and meet you in a minute," Sam said once he'd regained his breath. The angel nodded and he crept off round the side until he found a small hole in a plank that he could look through.

The interior was dark, but there was no way he could miss the figure tied to the pole in the centre, and there was no way it could be anyone but his brother. Dean was slumped forwards, and his heart skipped a beat until he saw the steady rising and falling of his shoulders.

There were other vampires in there too, but in metal cages, snarling and shifting occasionally. Two figures outside the cages were having a quiet discussion in the corner, and one stood and stared into the cages, hands in pockets.

When they met up, Cas didn't have anything different to report, other than he'd seen six vamps wandering around altogether and that while Dean might be alive, there was blood staining his collar and neck so they'd better move fast.

"If you could distract them, I'll get his attention," Sam suggested.

"Do I need to draw them out?"

"If you can that'd be great, but it doesn't need to be for long and do not, whatever you do, endanger yourself, OK?"

"I know."

 

Dean had been drifting in and out of consciousness lazily, drifting through the strange twilight between wakefulness and sleep when he became aware of sharp movement in the barn, and forced himself awake. The vamps were gathered around James who seemed to be dispensing some sort of orders, maybe about how to eat him or how to tear him apart. Honestly, he was shocked he'd made it this far.

However, instead of turning on him, they slipped out through various cracks or gaps, leaving only two - James and the woman in pink, him perfectly still, her pacing ceaselessly till he snapped a word to her and she stilled.

And then a blade flew through the air and beheaded the woman and James was moving, far too fast for Dean to keep up with and Sam emerged with another blade in his hand and they were grappling and working closer to him until his brother dropped a small knife by his feet - but in the next ten seconds James beat him back relentlessly until he was bloodied and bruised and growing tired. Dean trapped the knife between his feet and flicked it upwards, where he managed to grasp it and began sawing back and forth, back and forth, not letting up even when he felt the handle dig grooves into his palm.

Sam dropped to the floor. James loomed over him for long enough to ascertain he wouldn't be getting up any time soon and turned to Dean, who was sawing frantically at his bonds still. The vampire calmly walked to Dean, knocked the weapon out his hand, and then tilted his head to the side, one hand secure on his jaw.

Dean knew this was it.

James leant closer, and then stopped dead for a second, suspended in time, before his head fell off and his body collapsed, hand loosening and sliding down his body to land in the growing pool of blood. Dean blinked the blood flecks out his eyes (his face was probably covered in it) and saw Cas.

The angel stood tall, a spray of red liquid dribbling down his cheek. His powerful sapphire eyes pierced Dean and his trenchcoat blew in the gentle breeze from outside, making him seem as invincible as he once was as an angel, but this time Dean can read him. Can see every second of agony behind the façade. Can see every sign of tiredness and wear and brokenness he couldn't identify when he was blinded by the strength and power that was radiated the first time he appeared.

And damn him if every little sign of humanity didn't make Cas more stunning.

 

"I'm fine," Dean insisted, once Sam had cleaned the blood from his face and hands and patched up the wound in his neck. "Honestly, I feel fine." His brother eyed him, but let him go.

The older Winchester wandered slowly through the corridors of the bunker. Cas had freed Dean and with Sam they'd taken out the vamps that he had diverted, then returned to the barn for the painful, slow clearing up of James' mess. They killed all the vamps in the cages, the essentially innocent victims who'd been bitten, left to go near-feral with thirst and restrained. It was emotionally and physically draining and Dean really needed some proper rest. So he headed to his bedroom and sat on the covers, trying to summon the motivation to get ready for bed.

"Hello." Cas appeared in the doorway, the blood cleaned off him as well.

"Hi, Cas." He didn't even have the energy to ask if he was OK.

"I want to ask you something."

"Yeah, sure." He gestured to the other end of the bed and he hesitantly took a seat. "What is it?"

"Nothing important," he said, and paused. "When I killed James, you seemed... surprised to see me. Like you didn't expect me to come." Dean was far too tired to put up any of the barriers he always had in place.

"Yeah, guess I was. Given everything I forced you through, I didn't expect you to be too keen to save me." Cas' brow furrowed.

"I see. You felt... like you deserved to die because of what I endured?"

"Pretty much," Dean admitted. Cas cocked his head and observed him.

"You're tired. I should let you sleep."

"No," he answered suddenly. "I just wanted to ask if there was anything I could do. To help with the nightmares, I mean."

"There's nothing," Cas said, too fast.  Dean stared at him.

"What? I'll help in any way I can."

"I found physical contact often helps. Not sex. Just having another person near me until I fall asleep."

"OK," Dean shrugged. "What helps you fall asleep?"

Cas' eyes lit up with surprise and relief and Dean guessed it had been difficult, telling him, but he was willing to do anything to heal the broken angel.

"I'm not going to judge you," the hunter reassured him. "I mean, Sam was soulless for ages. Also we've both been possessed and met Lucifer and God several times, so nothing surprises me any more."

For the first time, the angel cracked a small smile that actually reached his eyes.

"Thank you, Dean."

"No problem. I mean, I'd be useless otherwise." Cas did that small smile.

"No, you wouldn't." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long! I was literally about to post when my laptop broke and I lost all my work so I had to rewrite it from memory :/ hope you enjoyed it!


	10. green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> green grass, green eyes, calm

Dean rolled his shoulder, wincing at the tug on his partially-healed neck. He picked up an old shotgun and examined it methodically, wondering if he should clear the Impala's trunk of weaponry completely and then slowly replace it, checking each as he did so. After all, anything that could be used to deal with monsters tended to end up in there: bent silver knives, the odd iron poker, old guns they never used.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, stepping up to him.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean responded absent-mindedly, dropping the shotgun and rifling through for more.

"I was going to ask if you've seen Cas anywhere," his brother said. "I can't find him in the bunker."

Alarm bells began ringing in Dean's head and he shut the trunk, turning to face him. Hazel eyes bored into his own.

"I thought it wasn't a problem, that he'd just gone off somewhere, but he isn't answering his phone or texts, and you know what he's like. He's always in contact. And I checked his bedroom. His angel blade and some of his clothes are gone. Cas has disappeared again."

 

The older Winchester searched the bunker despite Sam's protests that he'd already done that and really, he was perfectly aware the angel was nowhere within range. He left six voicemails while still in denial. Finally, when there were no excuses left, they got in the his Baby and drove. To the vampire nest, the last motel he had stayed in, the bar where Dean had found him the first time round, to his place.

Nothing.

He racked his memory for any clues to his whereabouts. Sam decided to ask around at the bar and then do door-to-door and didn't ask his brother to come with him. Dean tried to re-enact their conversation in the bar and where he was staying- and suddenly, something clicked.

 _The lake,_ Cas had said. _It's peaceful there._

He crossed the road and followed it down until it sloped towards a large body of deep water, dark and tranquil. On the other side, he glimpsed a figure he knew.

 

Dean stood next to Cas for a moment, and then sat beside him on the hard bench. He had enough sense to know the angel would speak when he wanted to.

"Did I worry you?" he said eventually.

"A bit, yeah. Cas, you can't just take off like that without telling us! I thought I'd lost you again."

"I'm sorry. That was not my intention. In fact, I had received a message from Heaven again. Eremiel came to me for the second time to warn me."

"About what? Goddammit Cas, don't you trust Sam at least, if not me? Just tell me what's wrong and we can fix it!"

"No. I'm afraid you can't."

Dean sighed. "Well, I'm not moving until you explain why you can't say anything - and also, since when you let the God Squad one-up you."

"You really want to know?" Cas snarled suddenly, but there was frustration and desperation in his tone instead of proper fury. "It's about you! Heaven wants you on your path without distractions and currently, I am a distraction. Because I have - I love you. And not as a friend, though that would make things easier. No, my attraction to you has become inappropriate because although I am a fallen angel, what I once was lingers on. That is why Eremiel speaks to me, why Heaven disapproves of our closeness. Because they do not trust me to keep myself in check."

Right now, Dean was still trying to compute the first part.

"Wait, you're - you're _attracted_ to me? That's what it's all about?"

"Cas!" came a voice from higher up and Dean instantly internally facepalmed. How his little brother managed to show up at the worst possible time, he had absolutely no idea. "Man, we've been looking for you everywhere!" Sam's grin dropped when he saw their faces. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Cas said brusquely, standing up. "Me and Dean were discussing Heaven's motivations." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Like those winged morons have any idea what they're doing. Coming, Dean?"

 

Dean didn't realise exactly how good the angel was at avoidance. Clearly before he'd only displayed a fraction of his skills, because now he was always with Sam or out, always ready with an excuse and always keeping up the same mask that showed everything was fine. However, the older Winchester had done the same thing for years and there was no way to fake happiness to a faker.

Surely he couldn't avoid him forever.

After five days, Dean was ready to take that back. He was just so damn good at avoiding him it sometimes felt like unending hide-and-seek without his consent. It was really ridiculous. He would do anything for five minutes uninterrupted with his best friend.

They took on case after case, reminding Dean of when he had hunted mercilessly as an alternative to facing what he'd done to one of the purest people in creation. There was a Wendigo in Wisconsin and a shapeshifter in Colorado, in one of the smaller towns. It changed into Cas and told Dean that he hated him, that he was better off dead and if he looked a bit pale and sick when Sam arrived, it wasn't mentioned. Neither was the unnecessary viciousness with which he killed it.

 

The only reason things changed was because they were in another motel room, where Cas couldn't run away from him. So when he woke to the soft sounds of the angel's distress, he didn't bother waking him. Instead he padded across the room and sat beside him, gently rubbing his shoulder and quietly singing Hey Jude. The angel's steady breathing hitched briefly before settling into the normal rhythm. Dean stroked his dark hair once, then made his way back to his bed and passed out.

It became a regular routine at night, even once they were back at the bunker. Sometimes Cas would be asleep the entire time, sometimes he'd be half-conscious and aware of his presence, but either way he never protested and never pulled away from the reassuring touches he had loved before he'd been kicked out. Night after night, the routine continued until Dean couldn't face trudging through the cold corridors and kept a blanket in the angel's room. And if he noticed a pillow and another blanket were there the next time, he wisely didn't bring it up.

Slowly the reassurance extended beyond the nightmares. If Cas was particularly unsettled or scared, Dean would almost unconsciously hum Hey Jude or other nursery songs he'd heard as a child and the tension would reduce. Dean had moments when he was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt or worry, and with one look Cas would instantly recognise the issue and shift ever so slightly closer. They were tuned in to the other's slightest movement or hitch in breathing that indicated a problem.

And one day when Dean smiled over a woman's head when she was describing the 'aliens', Cas smiled back - barely a twitch of the lips, but he noticed.

It counted as a small victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puppy eyes* feedback, please??


	11. gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gold skin, gold light, richness

Dean grinned at Sam, rolling his shoulders restlessly. They'd spent a week in the bunker and honestly, he wouldn't mind the apocalypse happening again if only to save him from the boredom. He was restless, eager to get on the road again.

One of John's old friends had rung them up and grumpily informed them that 'there's a goddamn town of nasty ghoulies jus' south of Arkansas, so if you can get on the move, boys, that'd be jus' swell." Sam had confirmed that was indeed a little town on the edge of the state that was reaching insanity. Abusive mothers, cheating fathers, killings and robberies, sibling turning on sibling. Cas had taken one look at it and confirmed that it was not the work of one spirit.

Dean was in a good mood on the drive over. Finally he could actually do something to alleviate the dullness of everyday life. He had searched so long for it, but the moment he got a settled life, he realised that was not where he belonged. No, he belonged on the open road with silver in the boot and a gun in his pocket and old rock blaring out the stereo.

 

The town itself was pretty horrifying. The residents glared at them with bleary eyes and hissed threateningly, more like rabid dogs rather than people. The police department was ineffective and slow-moving with one lazy sheriff declaring the problems inconsequential or a result of undetected mental illness and the only motel in the entire place was in a worse condition than even they were used too. Crumbling timbers combined with peeling paint left an impression of poornesss, poverty even, and Dean expected the whole thing to topple at any moment. Sam had barely opened his laptop when there was a knock on the door.

A young woman smiled tentatively at Dean when he opened the door. The hunter frowned.

"Who're you?"

"I know about demons and ghosts," she said without preamble. "A hunter was here a couple of years ago and I remember how he looked."

"OK-"

"The sheriff is useless, mostly because he's possessed, but then he was always lazy. The couple down the road from you recently adopted a kid, which is bad because I think there's a poltergeist in that place which hates children. The Smith girl on the other side of town murdered her siblings and then her mother and got away with it. And it's getting worse - I'm using basic exorcisms and salt and silver and salt works but I can't keep them away properly and I can't do much before I'm suspected of knowing something and then I'm dead as well so it's good you showed up when you did or I'd be six feet under somewhere."

She said this all very fast, barely pausing for breath, and brushed her long ebony hair out of her face. Their room's yellow light looked greasy on her smooth dark skin.

"How do you know the sheriff is possessed?" Cas asked, appearing silently behind Dean. The girl jumped a bit, eyes flickering to the angel.

"I- I replaced his water glass with holy water. He screamed and ran out of his office, which doesn't seem normal."

"Nope," Dean agreed, opening the door properly and she stepped through warily, like it was a trap. Sam waved cheerily at her. Dean sprayed with her with holy water.

"Sorry," he said. "Had to know you're human."

"What's your name?" Sam enquired.

"Allie. I'm Allie. I hoped you could help me."

"That's what we do," he nodded. "Sounds like you've had a rough time."

"Tell me about it," she muttered. Cas stepped forward.

"We need to know everyone who you think is possessed or haunted."

 

When dark fell, they set out. They were completely conspicuous in the day but under the cover of night, nobody out late (drunkards, a couple of women giggling at the sky) gave them a second look, too wrapped up in their own lives. Dean breathed in the sharp cold air and surveyed the ramshackle place. Besides him, Allie shivered. She'd insisted on coming with them undeterred by warnings of mutilation and painful death. In fact she hadn't flinched at all when he hefted a rifle. On the contrary, she knew how to use all the available weapons with a particular love for the knives. Usually the hunter wouldn't have trusted her further than he could spit but she was definitely human.

"This," Cas breathed, "isn't just a case. Something's drawing all these creatures to here - or maybe bringing them in themselves. I advise we start with the sheriff's house." Dean nodded agreement and tried not to relax at his warmth near him.

The house was nothing special. No altars to Lucifer, no bloodstained walls, no dead people. It was just an ordinary, boring house with not a single interesting object in it. In the bedroom, the sheriff snored contentedly.

At least, until he was awoken with a splash of holy water. The man screeched and tried to bolt upright, a feral growl escaping his mouth as he realised he was tied to the bed. Cas finished spray painting a devil's trap on the ceiling and climbed off the chair. 

"Are you working for someone?"

At the sound of Sam's voice, his eyes went black.

"No," he snapped. "I'm freelance."

"Liar," Dean said. "Why is this town full of monsters?"

And so it went, round and round. Why here, why now, who are you, who are you working for, what are the monsters doing here, are there others, give their names, how many demons are there, have these ghosts just appeared, why this town, where have you come from, what is your name.

Slowly they gleaned answers. There were lots of them, confined to this town by some force he didn't know much about. Apparently he got orders via someone he'd never met. It was just a voice in his head. They took turns as the hours wore on. Dean watched Cas' blue eyes flicker and flare in the dim lighting, light glinting off his dark hair while he interrogated the demon, sometimes with holy water, sometimes with a knife.

"Crowley. The voice said- it said orders came from the King of Hell and I- that's all I know," the demon panted, sweat dripping from his face. "I was given the other demons and told to start killing slowly. To create ghosts. Turn this place into a haunted place of legend that everyone will avoid unless they're hunters. But you're too early, Crowley didn't want hunters here until we finished the project."

Cas looked to Sam and then Dean, who inclined his head, and plunged his blade through the demon's heart. Once the sputtering light faded from his body, Allie stepped forward. She'd been so silent it was like she wasn't even there.

"So what-"

"Hello, Moose. Squirrel," Crowley purred, nodding to Dean. "And who's your lovely new friend?"

Allie had gone pale at the sight of the King of Hell appearing in front of her, and now seemed struck mute by shock.

"Allie, isn't it?"

"How-" Dean barked.

"The sheriff told me about their resident demon detector and her tendency to perform exorcisms and imprison the ghosts with salt. Nice to meet you."

"You too," Allie whispered. Crowley frowned at Cas.

"Heaven not to keen on getting you your wings back? Oh, well. I heard that angels are much prettier with the scars, anyway."

Cas' jaw clenched and Dean took a step towards him and Crowley. Sam watched them. Allie flinched as Crowley grinned at her.

"Boys, this was an experiment. You didn't need to go and mess it up. I just wanted to create my very own ghost town." He casually cleaned his nails with a knife as Allie screamed in agony and disintegrated, a cloud of dust drifting towards the floor. Dean was in his face before it had settled.

"You didn't need to do that! She wasn't a threat! You could have just wiped her memories!"

"I know," Crowley said, pocketing the knife. "Anyway, I got the results I was after."

"Which was what?"

"How long it takes hunters to show up."

And on that note, the King of Hell disappeared.

 

It took so long for them to clean up the town everyone was drained by the time they'd got rid of the last ghost (tied to his house by a family locket). Dean was reminded once again of how painfully human Cas was at his signs of exhaustion: heavy head, shoulders curled inwards, almost stumbling. Personally, Dean felt like he'd been run over by a truck several times and then trampled by a herd of wild buffaloes.

They made it back to the motel and Sam passed out on his bed immediately after removing his blood-soaked clothes. Dean sat on his own bed and watched Cas change. He still stood with his back to Dean, but he could see the yellowing marks around his waist and hips, the - the scar that had been carved into his friend's back. A symbol - an old rune. It meant _unclean,_ or _tainted._ He'd looked it up the first time he saw it, a few days earlier.

If Cas was willing to expose the scar to him, Chuck only knew what the rest of him looked like. 

Dean pulled his own shirt over his head and caught a brief glance from the angel who looked away the second he made eye contact with the hunter.

 

Later that night, Cas cried out again in his sleep, writhing like he was on a torture table. Dean sat by him and hummed all the songs he knew. Cas was only half awake, but he gripped Dean's hand, to tell him thank you without words. Dean just ran a hand through his hair and stared at their entwined hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYY nearly last chapter I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update this anyway comment on what you want to happen. Should I send Cas back into prostitution? Send Dean on another guilt trip? Kill one of them?


	12. white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> white new snow, white wings, white blossom, new beginnings

The sunrise was streaking bloody fingers across the horizon when Dean woke to the sound of lowered voices. He rose and stretched, and then followed the murmurs to Cas, shoulders slumped, and a dark figure. Eremiel.

What the hell was the feathery ass doing here?

"Castiel, you have fallen from Heaven. I believed you could sink no lower, but you love this Righteous Man of Letters and have made no effort to curb your emotions, instead letting the man get closer to you. You were a disgrace as an angel and a disgrace as a human."

"I tried to-"

"Really?" Eremiel said. "Brother, can you look me in the eye, and tell me, truthfully, that you have done everything possible to control your emotions? That you no longer love him?"

A brief beat of silence.

"I thought not," the angel said contemptuously, like he was nothing. Dean's fingers curled into fists at the tone.

"Eremiel, what I do no longer concerns you or Heaven."

"Of course it does. Everyone is watching Dean and Sam Winchester, and their tagalong. We have plans for him, and you, you have gone so far from Heaven's light, whored yourself out-" The angel went very quiet as Dean stepped out from behind the bookcases, angel blade in hand.

"You are not allowed inside our home. And you don't get to insult my best friend, who has done unspeakable things to survive, things you wouldn't understand because you've lived your whole life with everything you need."

A sneer curved over Eremiel's face.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Dean was across the room that fast, pressing the tip of the blade into his throat.

"Dean," Cas said softly, and he turned to look at him, anger fading. And then Eremiel said,

"You know, I never believed you'd deign to touch a slu-"

The hunter pushed the blade through his throat - or tried to. The angel moved fast, at the other end of the room in a flap of his wings, but not entirely unharmed. He touched his fingertips to the blood dribbling down his throat and onto his white shirt, and glared daggers at Dean.

"Go. Or I swear to God I'll kill you."

The angel stared for a second longer and then he was gone, leaving behind an awkward silence. 

"Dean, I-"

"Don't say you're sorry," he interrupted, stepping over to him. They were almost touching, they were so close. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

The moment he said it, he saw understanding flare in Cas' blue eyes. He extended one hand cautiously, waiting for Dean to stop him. When he didn't, he carefully, slowly, brushed his fingers over the edge of his lips, the touch feather-light.

"Cas," Dean breathed.

"Dean," Cas answered.

It was all the hunter needed to capture the angel's lips in a kiss, one hand tangling in the hair at the nape of Cas' neck, the other pulling him closer. He tasted of vanilla and smoke and something distinctly him.

The angel actually _moaned,_ Chuck save him, and moved from his lips to his neck.

"Cas," Dean said again, trying to focus. "Cas, you're sure you're-"

"I'm sure," he murmured, meeting Dean's green eyes for a moment, long enough for Dean to catch his lips again. He was addicted to Cas, getting high just from his proximity, his warmth and taste and needing more, more, more.

 

Sam didn't sleep well. The noise in Dean's bedroom had kept waking him up. But there was one small mercy - at least he didn't speak Enochian.

 

"Have fun?" he asked the next morning. Cas flushed slightly.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, trying to play it off casually.

"It's lovely that you've finally got your act together, but could you do it in a motel rather than in the bunker, please?"

"Oh." Then the other words registered. "What do you mean,  _finally_?"

"I mean I was going to lock you in a room if you hadn't sorted yourselves out."

"You can if you want," Dean offered.

Sam groaned.

 

Dean had been sure Sam would be out the afternoon Cas pushed him onto the sofa and supported himself above him on his arms. He was sure he wouldn't be back soon as he pulled off Cas' shirt and the angel reciprocated ferociously. He was certain nobody was going to come in as he flipped Cas over and, burning light in his eyes, kissed his way down his body,  Cas writhing and moaning beneath him.

"What did I say about _that_ and the bunker?" Sam demanded from the door and Dean whipped his neck around fast enough to give himself whiplash. "You doing Cas and stuff?"

Dean felt Cas tense beneath him and he stroked a hand down his lover's back.

"Sorry," he said, and dragged the angel into his room and shut the door. Cas sat on his bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently.

"Yes. it was just what Sam said about... that. You and me."

"I know," Dean managed. He had no problem making Cas moan. But the trauma he'd experienced made it hard for him to reciprocate. Slowly, together, they were working through the pain and the memories, but for the time being, Dean had no problem submitting to the angel instead of the other way round, to help him heal.

"You don't need to do anything you don't want to," the hunter said, as he'd repeated over and over again the last few days.

"I know." He looked up. "Thank you."

It still amazed Dean that Cas would thank him and not the other way around. He smiled, and Cas' cobalt-blue eyes relaxed at last.

"There's still a long way to go," Cas told him. Dean leant over and kissed him.

"Yeah. But I'm not going anywhere. We can do it together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left feedback <3 you kept me going x


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